The grandfather clock in the grand hallway struck midnight, its deep chimes echoing through the silent, cold corridors of the mansion. Outside, a heavy summer storm was brewing, the sky turning a bruised purple as lightning flickered in the distance.

Inside the house, the atmosphere was divided. In the west wing, four children were deep in the innocent slumber of youth. Trishan, the eldest, was dreaming of his cricket matches; Rohan was curled up with his adventure books; and the two young girls, Divya and Anjali, were snuggled under their pink duvets, unaware of the storm or the world around them.